It's a painfully hot Tuesday afternoon in Colorado, but thank God it's not as humid as the east coast. It doesn't take long for word to spread in this town, and word is there's a new pastor around, a baptist fella. Some people claim he was a bounty hunter, real rough man that doesn't have a business wearing a clerical collar. But sure enough he's here, seated at a pew with his head bent in prayer. Right about now John is the only person in the church, quiet save for the sounds brought in from the street outside.
Not the only person for long. There's a creak of the door, and then a clatter as it closes. Then steps. Shod steps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Very slow. They belong to a short, auburned-haired woman, wearing a cream cotton dress with purple pinstripes and small clusters of matching purple flowers. The dress has a simple neckline, and elbow-length sleeves in the heat. There's a rustle of petticoats and crioline as the woman moves. A purple hat sits atop her head. She doesn't know the man in the pews from Adam, so she just continues to walk slowly into the church, slowly down the aisle, her bright eyes casting this way and that in a slow review of the room and what it contains. One thing is for sure — her attire is decidedly east-coast. She's either a very wealthy woman who has her items imported, or a transplant.
John looks up, gaze settling on on the woman as she enters. He pushes to his feet and offers a warm smile, clerical collar showing itself. "Evenin'," his drawl is decidedly Georgia, just not upper class, "anything I can help with?" Surely they've got the wrong person. he's about as intimidating as your average preacher.
Kitty pauses when the man stands, preparing to look apologetic. But then he's got a collar on, and she looks, instead, curious. "Beggin' your pardon, sir," the woman says, her own accent a fine southern belle's twang. "I've come to pay my respects to the new Preacher, as I'm told there is one." Her bright eyes flit from the man's face to his collar and back again.
"Well they told ya right." John's face breaks into a grin. "John Bishop, pleasure to meet you, miss.." he pauses to allow her to introduce herself, though shouting from outside furrows his brow. "Ah hell. You might wanna sit down, I reckon I know that voice."
"Pastor Biship?" Kitty asks, a single delicate brow quirking upward. Her hands have found each other, held in front of her in a dainty ladies' posture. "Someone must have a sense of humor," she notes, with a slight touch to the corner of her lips. She might say more but the sound outside has her turning toward the door, looking startled. But she doesn't sit. "Is there trouble, sir?"
Before John can answer the door is booted open by a large man. "Well I'll be damned, I heard ya was here, but I hadta see it fer myself." He stalks in with a feral grin, followed by two smaller men. "Pardon me ma'am, but I'm about to beat the dog shit outta the 'preacher'." Then he's on top of John, swinging on him.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — John=unarmed Vs Thug1=4
< John: Good Success Thug1: Success
< Net Result: John wins - Solid Victory
"This'll be just a moment." John assures, finishing just in time to bring his forearm up to block the strike, and smash his own fist into the man's midsection, doubling him over. Following that he punches the larger man in the throat, pushing him over the nearest pew.
"Stop that, you heathens!" Little Kitty, that sweet southern belle, apparently has a mouth on her. She shouts at all four of the men, stepping far enough back so as not to be hit with a stray … well, anything. But she's not frightened. She's angry. "You could break his rib!" She chides the Preacher. Yes. She is not impressed.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — John=unarmed Vs Thug2=3
< John: Great Success Thug2: Success
< Net Result: John wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — John=unarmed Vs Thug3=5
< John: Good Success Thug3: Failure
< Net Result: John wins - Solid Victory
Kitty's words don't stop the other two men from rushing the Preacher, the first punch is dodge, countered with a punch to the jaw that drops the man like a sack of potatoes, and the third man doesn't even get the chance to take the man out, the hell of the shiny black shoe the preacher is wearing connecting with his gut and taking the wind from him before he gets close enough.
And Kitty pouts. She folds her arms just beneath her bust and watches the men go at it, albiet from a safe enough distance, with absolute distaste on her face. She doesn't argue any further for now, though.
John does look a little bit sheepish after all the men are taken care of, flashing Kitty an apologetic smile. "Apologies. I couldn't let them assault me though, could I?" He heads over to the door, sticking his head out, where a crowd has gathered to watch the exchange. "Can somebody grab the law for me? Please and thank ya." He turns back around to head into the church proper, "Look," this is directed to the groaning man that swung first, "you're the one that tried to rob that store, not me. You can't be gitting all bitter just because I did my job and tossed you in jail."
Once the Preacher has moved away from the men, Kitty moves in. She goes to the one that appears to be the least coherant, putting a bar hand to his throat to check his pulse or gently turning his face toward her to look carefully into his eyes. "He's concussed," the auburned-haired girl reports unhappily. "Nevermind about the law." She turns a glare toward the preacher. "Surely you have some thugs of your own, Preacher Bishop? All of these men will need to be conveyed to my…to Dr. Yin's office at once."
"I'll get one of 'em," John says, putting the large man over his shoulder. "Guess it's a good thing I pulled those punches." He stops to look at the man holding his gut, "He should be able ta walk. Probably just ah bruised pride. Maybe ah rib too." He stops to look expectantly into the crowd, "Come on, don't just stand there. Grab ah man and let's go."
And just like that, Kitty will rise and lead the little parade toward the Physician's office, recently market with a new sign showing an Erlenmeyer flask flanked by a diagonal scalpal, indiciating that it is both a surgical and a medical facility. Kitty will push her way in immediately, casting a glance back behind her at the men being borne along. At least she doens't seem QUITE so mad as she did before, but her cheeks are still a touch flusehd.
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Barber-Surgeon Grimwood
Tue Jul 05, 1861 — Tue Jul 05 18:04:21 2016
This is a one-room physicians office. As one enters, theyll be faced with a desk. Theres a cabinet too, on the opposite wall, full of little bottles in neat rows. Beyond that are two cots, one on either side of the room. The back of the room is covered by a curtain, and just beyond it is a long bar underneath a long mirror, the kind used by bartenders. The bar is covered by lamps and neat, organized boxes of instruments. There is a cot there too, but it is built tall with long legs, and without a soft pad. That space is clearly used for medical procedures, rather than resting.
There is a doorway to a small storage room and the back alley, and stairs leading to the doctors apartment upstairs.
Contents:
John -
Kitty - A neat, auburned haired Belle.
Exits: [O] Main Street
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"Well, I'm glad they weren't tha only ones that decided to pay their respects. God puts us where he needs us." John says with a little strain, having carried the man down the street slung over his shoulder. "Where should we set 'em down at?"
"Is he the one concussed?" Kitty asks, pausing by the desk to remove her hat and to pull on a pair of white gloves. She nods having looked at the man in the preacher's arms. "Behind the curtain there. You-" she speaks to the walking wounded. "May sit out here, and I'll be with you presently. That's a broken rib at least, so no running off until I've finisehd with you." And she turns then to go behind the curtain with the preacher and the uncontious man.
John nods slightly, heading over to put the man down behind the curtain. He's surprisingly gentle for being the one that did this to them. He sighs quietly and stretches, "I don't have no medical experience, but anything I can do ta help?"
"Fortunately it's not your medical experiencec I would need, Preacher Bishop," Kitty says, in that same classy southern drawl of hers. "But your strength. Help me roll him to his side, please." She moves to the man's body as well, white gloved hands picking up some touches of dust and whatever else the man may wear upon him to start trying to roll him. "Do you always allow brawls in the house of God, sir?"
"Did Jesus not chase the greedy from His Father's temples with a whip?" John asks with a raised brow, complying and rolling the man over. "He taught us to be meek, not weak. Had I not defended myself I would be the one on this table."
"And it would be I who tended you there, so no doubt you would have recovered," Kitty says, with a touch too much pride for one lecturing a Preacher, no doubt. The man, on his side, begins to breathe and his eyes flutter open, and Kitty begins to guide him onto his back again. "But I do not quite think you are Jesus, sir." She finally looks at the Preacher, still looking just a touch disapproving, but no longer as mad as she was. "Were you injured at all, in the fighting?"
"And I don't claim ta be. He coulda stopped 'em with ah word. That's somethin' I don't have tha luxury of." John sighs quietly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. "Me? No ma'am. Most strenuous part ah that was bringin' 'em over here."
"Very good, then," the nurse says, nodding her head once or twice at his words. "Because we're out of beds. Been here but two weeks and already out of beds! Dr. Yin will be quite vexed at this," she says, moving to walk past the curtain to check on the other men. "I might recommend a message of peace for your next sermon, Preacher," Kitty adds, checking one man and then the other.
"I just may have ta." John decides, looking over the area. "It's ah nice place y'all have. Ah bit small for the area, but nice. I'm sure there'll be room ta expand."
"We certainly shall if you keep us in business," Kitty says, dusting off her hands once she's checked both men. "They'll all need rest, mostly. To keep their minds at ease and not to think too much on challenging things." She turns to look at the Preacher again, hands on her hips. "I trust I may send their bill to the Church?"
"I'll cover it." John nods slightly. "Maybe that'll keep 'em from shooting me in the back."
"Very good, then," Kitty says, removing the once-white gloves and tossing them in a wicker basket near to the desk. Laundry for later, no doubt. She pauses then, looking over the man curiously — head to toe this time, without the expectations of simply a Preacher before her. She hums. "Well if you do find yourself shot in the back, sir, I'm the nurse here — Kitty Morton — and it seems you know the way to find your help, don't you?"
"Well, it's good to meet ya." John says, brushing his hands off and offering a hand. "Though I wish it had been under better circumstances."
"Perhaps there will be better circumstances in the future, Preacher Bishop. I certainly hope so," Kitty notes, with a shake of her head. "For now I'd best see to situating these men comfortably and in some cleaner attire. I wish you a good afternoon, Preacher Bishop." Even if she still doesn't sound like she approves much of him.
"Alrighty ma'am. You have a good'n." John says, lowering his hand and turning around. "Send me tha bill after ya finish up with 'em." He sighs quietly and worries his lip, those who stayed around outside to watch parting to let him through.